


The Fall of the House of Lecter

by P3rv3S1tt3r, R0gue_R0cket_g1rl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cage Fights, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Caring Will Graham, Dark Hannibal Lecter, Dark Will Graham, F/F, F/M, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Heroes to Villains, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder Husbands, My First Work in This Fandom, Parent Hannibal Lecter, Parent Will Graham, Protectiveness, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/P3rv3S1tt3r/pseuds/P3rv3S1tt3r, https://archiveofourown.org/users/R0gue_R0cket_g1rl/pseuds/R0gue_R0cket_g1rl
Summary: Mischa Graham-Lecter has been running for a long time. Enough time to go to Baltimore, become Raven Usher, a respected private investigator and feared cage fighter. Mischa deludes herself into believing that her past is behind her until Freddie Lounds seeks her out, mentoring her until her death. Now with the FBI, Mischa looks for Freddie's killer even though Mischa already knows. When two more bodies show up, missing organs like Freddie, and the last one with a letter inviting them to look for the Murder Husbands.Now written with P3rv3S1ttr from chapter 4 onwards!
Relationships: Alana Bloom/Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom/Margot Verger, Alana Bloom/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the beginning everything was great...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy domestic Murder Husbands.

Mischa Diana Graham-Lecter is born April 13, 2019, and Hannibal remembers the joy of holding his daughter for the first time. He remembered in that moment he would do anything and everything to keep his daughter happy and safe. He would kill for her, he would torture for her. She was their little girl.

Of course the fools at the adoption agency didn't know that the small bundle in his arms was his and Will's biological daughter as well.

It had been ridiculously easy to not only have a child with Alana Bloom (making sure it was part him, Will, and Alana), to get Alana offer up the child for closed adoption, and adopting their daughter, making her forget that she had a daughter. It had taken two months, but it had been worth it.

Now that Mischa is in their lives, Will and Hannibal have to put their other, bloodier plans on hold so they can raise their little girl. Of course that meant leaving the States for Europe and now they were living in the lovely countryside of London, though still close to their jobs. It has been tempting to begin the cycle of killing and dining but that would be putting Mischa in danger. 

Hannibal smiles. He can't wait to teach his little girl how to take a life.

Will was probably coming home now from the store since it was now Hannibal's turn to take a break from work and watch their beloved daughter. Of course they had a nanny for their daughter, but they preferred to take care of their daughter on their own. Both men knew how to take care of a child, it wasn't as strange to them as most people would believe.

Hannibal remembers how he and Will fell off the cliff, both clutching each other. They were both claimed dead, along with Bedelia whom they had to kill after she had tried to inform Jack Crawford that they were alive. Thankfully Jack had thought that Bedelia was gloating and left her.

After that, Will and Hannibal had thought of having a family. They didn't want to adopt some random child, they wanted to a child of their own. With Will's empathy and endurance, Hannibal's telekinesis, absorption, and mind control, and Alana's telepathy and healing, their daughter would be very powerful. Of course they had other powers, but those were the main ones Hannibal wanted to pass onto his daughter.

Mischa's soft whimpers bring Hannibal back to the present. Hannibal practically runs to the nursery, not wanting his daughter to be alone.

The soft grey painted room is home to their sweet girl. The brown crib is placed on the far wall and Hannibal walks to it. 

"Ssh ssh, Papa's here _mažylis_ ," Hannibal says softly as the child cries. 

Hannibal picks up the bawling five month old, calming her down, and changing her diaper. He walks down to the kitchen and makes her a bottle. Hannibal feeds the bottle to the baby, soothing her.

Mischa's cries fade as she eats and her beautiful blue eyes fix on him. Hannibal smiles at his daughter who bears his sister's name. Hannibal won't let anything bad happen to his daughter. 

"Aren't you a sweet one?" Hannibal smiles, stroking her dark blonde hair.

Mischa cooes softly as they walk around the estate, which was easy to buy. Hannibal places his hand on Mischa's chest, and she places her small hand on Hannibal's finger.

Will comes home and takes Mischa while Hannibal prepares dinner. Out of the corner of his eye, Hannibal watches as Will holds and plays with Mischa. After dinner, Will and Hannibal take Mischa outside to look at the stars. Mischa looks up at the stars, captivated by their beauty.

Will can't believe how lucky he is to be with Hannibal and to have a daughter. 

Of course, he had his reservations about having a child with Alana no less, but Will agreed. Will remembers holding the crying child fresh from the womb, smiling at the new life. At Alana's anger and maternal instincts. Hannibal had taken Mischa away to clean her.

"Mischa, after his sister?" Alana whispered.

"Yes. Diana is her middle name," Will says, helping Alana.

"Mischa Diana Graham-Lecter," Alana muses. "A long name for a little girl."

"We'll take care of her Alana. You can go back to Margot and Morgan soon."

A couple days later, memories wiped, Alana gives the unnamed baby to the adoption center in Boston and Will and Hannibal go to the agency.

Mischa's soft cooing brings Will back to the present. Mischa happily makes noise and smiles at the night sky.

"She really does love seeing the stars," Will noted with a smile.

"She does," Hannibal agreed, kissing his husband as Mischa began to fall asleep. "Why did you think I came out here with her?"

"So you could see the stars."

"A fair guess. But our _chimères_ likes it here."

"How was she when I was gone?" 

"The usual. Mischa is very well behaved. I'm beginning to speculate what her original powers will be."

"Of course. What do you want her to have? Or what don't you want?"

"To tell the truth, I don't know. I just want her to live out her destiny, to be something great."

Will looks down at the sleeping face, smiling.

"Looks like we should get some rest as well," Will said.

They walk back inside, careful to not wake Mischa.

After placing Mischa in her crib, Hannibal and Will get ready for bed.

As they lean in close to each other, knowing that Mischa could wake up anytime, it doesn't matter. Every little thing, every moment with their daughter was going to be cherished. She was going to be cherished, held close like the precious treasure she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, nice fluffy beginning let's get to the fun parts, shall we?  
> Also mažylis means little one in Lithuanian and chimères means star dust in French.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mischa lets the man turn around and look at her in a mixture of awe and terror as realises what’s about to happen and how her name is so fitting. 
> 
> Mischa smirks at the terror in the man’s eyes as she dives down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to this fic! Also I got inspiration from the fight scenes from the X-Men movies where Logan and Angel (not together) have cage fights.

“Oooh!” says the crowd as Mischa hits the chained wall then the floor. 

As twenty-three year old Mischa spits out blood and glares at her opponent, a large heavyweight man who is smirking at her, she stands up, her body screaming with pain, and growls at him, wiping off her blood on her black leather arm bracers.

Sweat and blood drench her white tank top and her jeans are torn, boots scuffed up more, but Mischa isn’t giving up. Her heart pounded against her chest so hard it hurt. By the look on her opponent’s face, he knew he had hurt her.

“Ready to face defeat?” he sneered, brown eyes dancing with dark glee. “Where your wings little birdie?”

His hand glows with red energy and he lunges at her but Mischa jumps towards the top of the cage. She surveys the cage and the crowd watching them, getting drunk or high, planning to get laid, and betting on this cage match.

Money that she was going to get if she won was going to go to pay off her rent. The bar, the Crimson Lounge, was very popular. Not just for its great alcohol and drugs, but the betting on the fights.

The rules of the ring were simple: no weapons, no killing opponents in or out of the ring, and if you won you’d keep a large portion of the money that was placed on you.

Mischa had introduced herself as Raven Usher, a P.I. in her spare time and a fighter as well. The management was at first hesitant to let an eighteen year old to enter a cage match, but in the end they relented. And that was the first fight that she made her name.

The chanting of the crowd brought her back to the present. That and the red light that was coming at her. 

Mischa dodged the blasts of red energy that come at her. The man turns around and yells at the crowd, smug that he’s going to beat her. Mischa suppresses a dark smile. She had fought and won over a hundred matches. She had never lost and never would.

She leaps and dodges the attacks expertly, running on the wooden beams. As she runs, Mischa looks for an opening to attack.

She gets one when he decides to mess around with the crowd. Surprised cries come from the patrons as she stands, her black wings coming out of her back.

Mischa lets the man turn around and look at her in a mixture of awe and terror as realises what’s about to happen and how her name is so fitting.

Mischa smirks at the terror in the man’s eyes as she dives down.

She punches him across the face and he goes flying. He groans as he hits his head on the metal. The crowd roars with approval but Mischa knows that the fight isn’t over yet. Mischa punches him again and again until he slumps to the ground, blood pouring from his nose and various cuts on his face. The ref grabs her hand and lifts it up, making her clench her teeth in pain.

“The undefeated champion! The fiercest bird of prey! The winner of this match! RAVEN!” he bellows.

The crowd roars with approval as Raven walks off, tucking in her wings. She walks off to the back to heal. The guy also gets dragged off of the mat and the last Mischa sees of him is his blood leaving a scarlet trail to the men’s back room. She opens up the rusting metal door with a creak, ignoring the crowd calling out praise, questions, or threats.

Mischa locks the door despite that there are disguised guards next to the doors. In twenty minutes, Mischa has cleaned up nicely, throws away the bloodied bandages, drinking water, before she goes to get the blue leather jacket.

Her father’s jacket. Hannibal’s jacket.

Mischa flinches not only from her cuts and bruises, but from the memories of her childhood. They way she had learned to kill and clean off blood, how to lie and manipulate, thanks to Will and Hannibal.

She looks at herself in the mirror, at her fake appearance; dark black hair and stormy grey eyes. Mischa slips out of the room, unnoticed by anyone. She pulls on her black gloves as she walks over to Alyssa Starling’s office to collect her winnings.

“Raven, dearest, I hope you're alright after that fight,” Alyssa simpers, handing “Raven” a thick envelope.

Mischa reins in her annoyance at the fake concern from the woman. Alyssa’s powers were manipulation, getting what she wanted, and making others feel or want what she did about anything, or fool others into lowering their guard. Mischa has never let down her guard. She can’t afford to. Even if it has been six years since she ran from Will and Hannibal.

If people found out who she was and if Will and Hannibal were alive, Mischa would never have the privacy she had worked so hard for again.

“I’ve had worse falls than that. I’ll be fine,” Mischa answers, taking the cash and putting it in the inside pocket of her jacket.

“You’ll be back next weekend?”

“Most likely. I’ll inform you if anything changes.”

Mischa leaves the room and heads to the black motorcycle (another similarity between her and Hannibal) and drives off to her apartment.

Once she gets into her apartment and locked the door, Mischa shifts back into her normal appearance: blue eyes and golden brown hair. She places the cash in the safe in her desk. Mischa winces as she trades her bloodied clothes for fresh ones. Mischa won’t sleep tonight. Fighting usually brings her nightmares back so she stays up all night.

The next day while at a coffee shop that Mischa only visits when she tired and sore from the fights, a red haired woman in her late fifties approaches her. Mischa suppresses a scowl as she pays and gets her coffee.

“Raven Usher?” the woman calls. “I’m Freddie Lounds, reporter for-”

“Tattle Crime, I know. What do you want?” Mischa snaps.

“I want you to be my partner,” Freddie says, ignoring her rudeness and dragging her to the back of the coffee shop to sit at a small table.

“Why?” Mischa asks once they sit down.

“Because your work with the Crimson Lounge inspired me and because I need a less recognizable face to get into crime scenes for me.”

“Will I get paid for this?” Mischa asks tonelessly.

“It depends on how well you do it.”

“I’m not going to help you for your school yard gossip paper. I get paid for solving the crimes, not getting paid for making a stupid story about it.”

“My paper has other journalists than me and has grown in credibility. You don’t have to work with us officially, but I would like you to at least consider it.”

“No. I’m not going to help you.”

“Then you won’t mind if I write a story about you.”

“Oh what’s it going to be about? How I’m a private eye and a fighter? Everyone knows that. Your story about me won’t get far, I can promise you that. There are more interesting things your readers want.”

Mischa gets up, scowling. That woman was infuriating just like she was described by-

 _Damnit_ , Mischa chided herself. _Don’t think about them!_

Out of the corner of her eye, Mischa saw Freddie take a picture of her. Mischa cursed mentally. If Freddie’s story did get out and they found out who she was, then her life for the past six years would have been for nothing.

Of course, Freddie couldn’t write anything if she wasn’t around.

Mischa smirked. She knew exactly how to deal with Freddie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan Verger goes to his first murder investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing is fun when you have inspiration and no life!

FIVE WEEKS LATER...

Morgan Verger-Bloom didn’t hesitate to sign up for a rookie group that would be sent into the field. Now he wishes he did. It seemed like an interesting learning opportunity to get some credits to graduate early and get some hands-on experience. Except he didn't realise that he was going to be hauled out in the forest. 

Morgan could practically hear Alana saying "I told you so" and Margot trying to persuade him to take care of the family business of slaughtering pigs and taking care of animals, which he has no interest in whatsoever.

Because every time there was male Verger, they turned out to be assholes, and Morgan didn't want to be like his predecessors so he went in a completely different direction.

Morgan wanted so far away from that, so he went to Quantico, much to his mothers' horror. Against their pleas for him to reconsider his choices, Morgan went anyway, away from his home.

Now he is in the forest looking at the mutilated body of-

“Freddie Lounds,” Adam Tyler, head of the behavioural sciences of the FBI, informs Morgan. “A group of hikers found her like this."

Adam Tyler is a tall man with grey streaked blonde hair with hazel eyes and has an imposing demeanor.

"Like this" means that Freddie is nailed to a tree by her forehead, neck, and sides; her body mangled and barely recognizable.

"Look at the scene, try to find clues," is all Adam instructed before he left to talk with the witnesses who found Freddie.

Morgan at first wonders how they identified Freddie so fast then he saw the small piece of wood with the words seared into the bark:

_Here hangs the tattler Freddie Lounds-MH._

Morgan frowns at the initials, brow furrowing.

"MH?" Morgan mutters, inspecting the notice closer.

As he looks at the body up close, Morgan continues to observe the body.

The longer he looks at and near it, the more he wants to retch. Not because it's disgusting, but because of the way Freddie is presented.

Her chest is ripped open, a clean surgical cut opening Freddie's insides. Poison ivy and various flowers are growing in her chest, which is slightly unnerving. The blood staining the tree is already brownish red, indicating that Freddie has been dead for awhile. Her blue eyes have been plucked from their sockets, leaving nothing but empty flesh holes. Her hands and tongue have been hung around her neck like some grotesque mockery of a necklace. The hands and tongue cover her severed vocal cords.

Her mouth is curved, cut rather, into a disgusting smile like she was happy when she died.

Morgan looks around at everyone else working at the crime scene, using their powers of telekinesis, plant manipulation, or whatever else there is, then turns back to the body.

Morgan takes a deep breath and concentrates, might as well get it over with.

He loves and hates his powers of empathetic retrocognition, his powers to see the past so vividly and to feel the emotions of the people he's looking for. They are helpful with cases and finding out his family history that his mothers wouldn't tell him, but they can also show him the pasts of everything, which can lead to him over thinking and his dreams can sometimes lead to premonitions of the future.

The world warps and fades and Morgan feels like he's falling, falling and he's going to hit-

_Then he's taken back to the shadows of the past._

_For a moment, Morgan feels lightheaded but the feeling quickly subsides._

_The world is colorless and fuzzy. Whoever did this knew how to block his powers even after they were gone._

_Morgan doesn't feel anything yet. When did-?_

_Movement and a dull crash catch his attention. Morgan walks over and watches as Freddie Lounds stumbles out of her car and is faced with two figures. Freddie seems to recognize them and clearly their past is not great because she begins to run into the forest._

_The other two run after Freddie, gaining on her rapidly. It doesn't take long before the taller of the two catches her. Freddie screams, but it only sounds like a whisper to Morgan._

_Even as Freddie thrashes against her captor, her captor manages to plunge a syringe into her neck. Morgan tries to get closer to at least see who's doing this but it's like running through molasses. Morgan is too slow to catch up and it's draining his energy to chase them, so he stays where he is._

_He watches as even though Freddie is drugged with something, she continues to fight against her two captors. Now Morgan can barely make out the two figures who are dragging Freddie to the tree, so he can't determine the genders of the two._

_The moon is lighting the murderers' victim, and even though Morgan can't hear them or see their facial expressions, he can tell that they are excited._

_Eventually, Freddie goes still( and Morgan feel Freddie's fear rushing through him) but judging from the rapid heaving of her chest, she's still alive as they carve her up. Morgan wishes desperately that he can skip this part, but he forces himself to watch and look for clues._

_The cuts were made from a dagger and a scalpel, Morgan notices as they cut off Freddie's clothes and carve her open. When the grisly work is finished, blood all over their clothes, the moon spotlighting Freddie's body. Her lungs, liver, and kidneys are taken and placed inside a small bag._

_Why were they taking organs? To sell on the black market? To give them to someone? To-_

_Morgan pushes back all the possibilities from his mind and focuses on the scene unfolding before him._

_When they finish, a rush of sick pride and joy fills Morgan. The killers' emotions. Proud and happy because they killed her? Why did they kill her? This was more than a jab, this was personal. Freddie had pushed them one too many times and they had snapped._

_The one who caught Freddie turns to their partner and begins to speak. Morgan strains to hear the person speak._

_"We've done goodwill," one of them says in an accented voice, clearly male._

_"We are one step closer to finding our treasure," the other says, also male._

The world fades once again, but this time color and sounds are back, and Morgan has to blink to clear his head.

"'Goodwill?'" Morgan mutters. "Treasure?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Adam asks Morgan.

"Something the two guys said. My powers of retrocognition let me see how Freddie died," Morgan answers.

At Adam's blank look, Morgan explains his powers to look through the past to see, hear, and feel what others did in the past.

"You know who did this?" 

"No. I couldn't make out their faces. They somehow blocked off my powers. But they took Freddie's organs for something, which concerns me."

"Because of your parents' dealings with Hannibal Lecter?" 

"Yes."

As Morgan ponders who the killers are, Mischa has already received word about Freddie's death from Elizabeth Ryan, Freddie's editor and best friend.

"Let me guess you want me to find out who killed her," Mischa drawled over the phone, packing things away.

Mischa needs to get out of Virginia now. If Will and Hannibal find her, Mischa doesn't want to know what they are going to do to her. Though Mischa can't figure out why her parents killed Freddie first.

"Look Ms. Ryan, I'll do my best-"

"Please, I'll pay you," Elizabeth says. "I'll pay you six thousand for the whole thing!"

Mischa frowns. Elizabeth is clearly very desperate to find the killers of her best friend. For a regular client, Mischa wouldn't ask why it was so important, it was obvious why. As for Elizabeth, Mischa couldn't tell because she didn't like Mischa from the moment they met and Mischa said the website was stupid, or if there's something Elizabeth isn't telling her.

"Were you two close?" Mischa asks casually.

"Yes, very. I want justice for my friend," Elizabeth growls.

Okay then. Judging by the defensiveness, Elizabeth clearly harbored some sort of love for Freddie.

"What are you planning to do?" Mischa asks.

"To publish Freddie's last story," Elizabeth declares.

"What did she write about?" 

_Please don't be about-_ Mischa thinks just as Elizabeth finishes her plan.

"Just an anniversary piece about her most famous work-" Elizabeth begins.

Oh god no.

"-the Murder Husbands, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter."

And that's why Freddie died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please go easy on me, retrocognition is still something I'm getting used to, but it will prove useful.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking at Freddie's mutilated body, Mischa wasn't in her apartment. She was in her parents' basement, finishing a kill. Mischa could feel Hannibal's hands grip her shoulders in what he thought was a soothing way but it only made Mischa feel scared and she could hear Will kiss her forehead and whisper in her ear after this kill, after every kill they did:  
> This is our design.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Semp1ternal for beta reading my work!

“Shit shit shit shit,” Mischa hisses in anger, pacing around her apartment.

Mischa goes into her cramped bathroom after hastily shutting the blinds, locking all the windows, and locking her door. She's being irrational but Mischa has a good reason to be. In her agitation, Mischa slips out of Raven and back into her normal self. Mischa looks at the mirror as she does so.

She may have Will and Alana's cool blue eyes, but it's Hannibal she resembles the most. 

She drinks a glass of whiskey. Then another. And another until she's drained the bottle.

Slumping against the wall, Mischa began thinking about Freddie and her parents.

Hannibal and Will were here and they had already killed one person that Mischa had been in contact with. Freddie Lounds.

Looking at Freddie's mutilated body, Mischa wasn't in her apartment. She was in her parents' basement, finishing a kill. Mischa could feel Hannibal's hands grip her shoulders in what he thought was a soothing way but it only made Mischa feel scared and she could hear Will kiss her forehead and whisper in her ear after this kill, after every kill they did:

_This is our design._

It had been painfully easy to realise who it was. Even after looking at the pictures that were taken, Mischa knew it was Hannibal and Will. Though they had changed their style of killing. Something only Mischa would recognize. It was almost like they wanted Mischa to solve the case.

To say she was surprised would be an understatement. It had been six years and they hadn't come to the States or at least to Virginia to look for her. Something must have tipped them off, but what?

Who told them or what indicated that she was here? Mischa had no contacts, no personal attachments to anyone, not even someone she hooked up with. No one at the Crimson Lounge knew her as Mischa or even saw her as Mischa. No one saw her as Mischa. From the moment she left Hannibal and Will, Mischa became Raven Usher.

Another thing Mischa couldn’t figure out was why Hannibal and Will killed Freddie now.

This was a personal kill, that was obvious, Freddie had been a thorn in their side, causing more tension to bubble to the surface. Even when they were in London, Freddie had continued to rehash the Murder Husbands spree story every chance she could which was every other year at least.

Mischa had only heard about Freddie from her parents because she overheard them debating whether or not to take a trip to Virginia just to kill Freddie. The only reason they decided against it was because of, well, her.

Everything Mischa’s parents did revolved around her, which was annoying. They hadn’t hesitated to teach her how to kill a person, which Mischa detested, yet the hesitated to do anything that could expose her as their daughter.

At seventeen, the age she left for good, Mischa had killed and eaten six people. Mischa loved her parents, but living their life wasn’t one she wanted. The proud looks Will and Hannibal gave her when she committed her first murder made her feel uncomfortable.

What kind of parents encouraged their child to kill?

The smiles and touches that her fathers had given her made Mischa sick. How and why did they do this? And why were they teaching her how to do this? What was the point of teaching her to kill?

Mischa never asked the questions she wanted answers to.

Murdering and eating people were one of the reasons why she left; another reason was because of how suffocating it was to live with them.

It was easy for outsiders to believe that her parents were overprotective because she was their first (and only) child. But Mischa knew it was because Hannibal and Will were both international murders. Well, Hannibal was, Will was the person Hannibal wanted.

Even though Mischa went to boarding school, every part of her life was watched and controlled by Hannibal and Will, though Hannibal was more vocal about what Mischa couldn’t do. Mischa knew why Hannibal had been so protective of her. He had already lost one Mischa, his sister, he wasn’t going to lose another.

The last reason she left-

Mischa pushed the bitter, painful memories of why she decided to leave away from her mind.

It was best not to think of the main reason why she decided to leave.

Absentmindedly, Mischa twisted her black bracers and bit her lip as she looked through the papers Elizabeth had practically shoved in her face when Mischa went to visit her.

"Look through it, I've already posted it. I'll be updating you on more stuff as it comes out," Elizabeth had grumbled.

Mischa had pretended to look interested as Elizabeth scattered papers on her desk, the older woman's eyes and hair changing color so fast it made Mischa dizzy. 

With each change, Mischa noticed that Elizabeth's freckles stubbornly remained on her face which was probably how the FBI knew who she was no matter how she disguised herself.

Mischa had only one thing that gave her away to those who knew her: a long white scar from when she was eight and had gotten cut by a branch that had fallen on her.

After making sure she was okay Hannibal had one positive thing to note.

Whenever you change forms, we will always know it's you when we see your scar mažasis and we will come to save you, Hannibal smiled, gently tracing the scar.

"Please tell me if you find anything, okay?" Elizabeth said, jerking Mischa out of her thoughts.

Mischa had nodded and left as quickly and as subtly as she could.

As Mischa had left Elizabeth’s, she noticed a black car zooming to Elizabeth’s house. She looked at the passenger, a man slightly older than her, with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. They locked eyes for a few seconds before Mischa turned her attention back to the road.

Everyone at Freddie's gossip blog didn't like Mischa because she wasn't afraid to say that their job was stupid.

While her coworkers glowered at Mischa, Freddie had merely smiled as if Mischa was behaving foolishly and would come to her senses.

Mischa scowled as she looked at Freddie’s stories.

The papers were all copies of what Freddie had written before she was murdered: her overdone story about Mischa's parents. Mischa cast them aside, annoyed and disgusted from what she read.

Mischa looked at the crime scene that Elizabeth had managed to take pictures of. They were shitty quality, most of the pictures taken with a shaky hand, causing the pictures to be blurred. This meant that Mischa would have to take a trip over to the crime scene. 

Mischa groaned in annoyance.

She had been to a lot of crime scenes, Will sneaking them to look at the bodies and how the murderer did their work. Will had shown her how he had the ability to imagine himself as the killer, being empaths Will and Mischa could empathize with anyone, but Will had a special interest in killers. Mischa did it on everyone, though mostly her parents to understand why they did anything. Of course, she never could find out why.

Part of her cursed herself for becoming a private investigator, Mischa blamed being introduced how to kill, forensic science, and deception as a child and well into her teen years by cannibalistic murderers.

But another part of her, a dark, twisted part of her that wanted to prove herself to her parents, was excited.

Excited because maybe if she solved this, Hannibal and Will would be proud for finding them and maybe, just maybe, they would be locked up for good this time. A part of her relished in the dark satisfaction that her parents had been caught and imprisoned thanks to her.

Or they could find out that instead of being dead or kidnapped or whatever other horrible things they thought about what happened to her, they could find out that Mischa was fine. That she was "Wasting her potential" just being content with being a private investigator and fighter when she “could be so much more” or whatever Hannibal liked to say.

Mischa laid down on her bed, still paranoid and thinking about how Hannibal and Will had come now. What they were going to do to her when they found out that she was alive.

If she was honest, Mischa would want them to kill her so she doesn’t have to keep running and hiding. She’s not sure if she has enough power to keep running.

Even though her thoughts are running around at a million miles per hour in her head, when Mischa lays down on her bed, she is whisked into a dream which is a memory from her childhood.

_Mischa is eight years old, and her scar is still fresh on her cheek,and Mischa is being held by Hannibal as they look up at the stars. The black sky peppered with silver patterns makes Mischa marvel, entrapped by their beauty. Looking up at the night sky has always helped her calm down, which is why Hannibal takes Mischa outside after a nightmare. Misha remembers Hannibal coming for her, holding her close._

_"Don't leave Papa," Mischa whispers._

_"I will never leave you. Neither will Dad. We will always find you and bring you home where you're safe," Hannibal promises._

_Mischa hugs her father and Hannibal takes her outside._

_She can feel her father’s strong arms around her waist, the physical promise of being there and always loving._

_Arms that made her feel safe and protected before she found out what her parents did and what they wanted her to become. They had once been the place where she sought out comfort but now all they make her feel is dread._

_“Aren’t they beautiful star dust?” Hannibal asks, looking down at Mischa._

_Mischa nods, looking at the familiar constellations she’s been taught. She smiles at the nickname her father has given her._

_Hannibal looks down at her smiling, he brushes her golden brown hair out of her face, causing Mischa to wince slightly when Hannibal accidentally touches her scar. Even though Mischa tried to hide her pain, Hannibal notices anyway. He’s too perceptive to_ not _realize when something is wrong._

_“Are you okay?” Hannibal says, looking at her. “Did I hurt you?”_

_“I’m fine Papa,” Mischa answers. “You didn’t hurt me.”_

_ "Another nightmare Mia?" Will says, coming outside to see his daughter. _

_ "Yes." _

_ "Hannibal, you need sleep. I'll stay here with Mischa," Will says, noting the dark circles under his husband's eyes. _

_ Reluctantly, Hannibal passes Mischa over to Will who holds her close.  _

_After a few moments, the two begin talking about the story Will read to her._

_"You liked Annabelle Lee?" Will asks, smiling._

_"Yes," Mischa says, laying her head against Will's chest._

_"I'm glad you liked it star dust."_

_Mischa and Will continue talking about the story even as Mischa yawns until she eventually begins to fall asleep. Will kisses her forehead._

_"Daddy, will you stay?" Mischa whispers._

_"I will. I'm always here Mischa. I will never let anything harm you," Will promises._

_Eight year old Mischa falls asleep, feeling safe in Will's embrace. They would always be there for her._

_But she wouldn't be there for them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thanks goes to the beta reader of this fic: Semp1ternal. Definitely go check out Semp1ternal's fics which are amazing btw!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Special Agents Adam Tyler and Morgan Verger, we’re with the FBI; we need to talk to Raven Usher,” Adam introduced, showing his badge and Morgan copies him. 
> 
> Draco arches an eyebrow, like he’s vaguely surprised that this is happening. 
> 
> “If you want to talk to Raven, you’re gonna have to wait, she’s busy,” he answered. 
> 
> “Where is she?” Morgan demands over the noise of the announcer and the crowd. 
> 
> “She’s here, she’s busy.”
> 
> “Doing what?”
> 
> Just as the guy is about to answer the announcer cuts over him. 
> 
> “AND THE WINNER OF HER FORTIETH MATCH! THE FIERCEST BIRD OF PREY, HER HOUSE WILL NOT FALL: RAVEN USHER!”
> 
> “That,” the bartender answers simply and goes back to work. 
> 
> “RAVEN RAVEN RAVEN RAVEN!” the crowd bellows. 
> 
> “Told you she was busy,” the bartender quips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello peoples! It's P3S aka P3rvS1tt3r, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Morgan walked up to the sooty black and grey building with a large sign written in red Gothic calligraphy: The Crimson Lounge.

For a well-renowned club, it looked dilapidated and probably violated several safety codes.

“And this is where Elizabeth said this is where we would find Raven Usher?” Morgan asked Adam who had dragged him along.

The older man nodded, his pale face looking ghostlike in the dim light of the street lamps.

Elizabeth Ryan has been all too eager to give information about Raven Usher, a private investigator that Freddie Lounds had taken an interest in and tried to hire her for Tattle Crime for five weeks before she died. From what Morgan could glean off of Elizabeth, no one other than Freddie at Tattle Crime liked Raven. Apparently Raven wasn’t afraid to point out that the stories they were writing were petty and full of shit and the way they got their information was sloppy and unrefined.

“Raven Usher comes here every weekend for what, Freddie and her team never found out, but this was the place where Raven did her first job at,” Adam informs him, looking at the building with distaste.

“What did she do?” Morgan asked.

“It was never proven, but it’s rumored that Raven helped the Crimson Lounge find ways to discreetly sell drugs, illegal power enhancements, and admitted some minors into their fighting matches,” Adam answered. “Raven herself was apparently eighteen when she did this.”

Morgan suppresses the admiration he feels for this girl. He could never do that, especially not at eighteen, but he admired how Raven made a name for herself even though she used some unorthodox and somewhat illegal means to do so.

Morgan at eighteen was worried about telling Alana and Margot that he was going to Quantico. He couldn’t imagine what Raven must have told her parents, if she had parents that is.

The building had a cramped warehouse appearance with yellowish orange light and muffled rock music blaring and the sounds of people laughing and talking. Morgan walked to the door with Adam just as a group of guys dragged out their friend whose face was bloodied and mangled.

“That damn bitch,” the mangled guy slurs.

“We warned you man,” one guy said.

“Thought I could-” the guy began again.

“You clearly thought wrong now let other idiots try to take a stand.”

The group continued their conversation as Morgan and Adam entered the bar.

The Crimson Lounge was surprisingly spacious. And the walls are painted bright crimson like the name of the establishment. Bright fluorescent lights illuminate the center of the bar while the rest has dim orange lighting. Elegant red wooden tables are placed around the room with deep red cushioned chairs are placed.

Even though it’s packed in the bar, most of the patrons are either at the bar or surrounding the large structure in the center of the Lounge. A balcony over looked the bar and a large office took up a third of the balcony, it’s red tinted windows only showing shadows of people inside.

“Should we go upstairs or to the bar?” Morgan asked over the noise.

“The bar. I don’t like the look of the office,” Adam grumbles, almost inaudible so Morgan has to strain his ears to hear what he’s saying. “Besides, I think a private investigator would be more inclined to drink than to argue with the management.”

A loud voice that cut through the music boomed:

“MAKE SOME NOISE FOR OUR WINNER!” the announcer, a sweaty average height man boomed.

The announcer had no microphone so Morgan guessed that he was using his powers to help his voice carry through the large room. The patrons roared with approval and raised their drinks to the winner.

The patrons were crowding around the large structure that stood over fifteen feet tall with wooden beams placed randomly, crisscrossing each other, attached firmly to the metal poles chained walls of the cage.

Morgan and Adam watched as the loser of the match was dragged off as the crowd jeered at him. Then another person clambered into the ring, and the crowd roared in anticipation.

“NOW THAT WAS A BRUTAL MATCH! THE NINTH WIN TONIGHT, UNDEFEATED! BUT WILL IT STAY THAT WAY? THIS NEXT FIGHTER CERTAINLY WILL GIVE US ALL A RUN FOR OUR MONEY! PLEASE WELCOME THE WINNER OF ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTY-NINE MATCHES, THE MAN HIMSELF: THE FLAME!” the announcer screamed.

A flash of heat ripples through the room as the crowd screams with energy.

“FLAME FLAME FLAME FLAME!” the crowd screeches like a horde of banshees, causing Morgan to wince at the loud sounds.

He’s glad he doesn’t have superhuman hearing like Adam who is holding back a grimace of pain.

“LET’S SEE IF HIS CHALLENGER CAN KEEP A WINNING STREAK OF A HUNDRED AND NINE!”

The crowd, which had been encouraging and excited of the outcome earlier, now laughed and jeered. Morgan suppresses a cringe of sympathy for the poor person fighting against someone who literally has a lot of firepower.

“THREE TWO ONE-!” the announcer begins.

“FIGHT!” screamed the crowd.

As sounds of fighting came from the cage, Adam and Morgan made their way to the bar after wrestling through the crowd to get there.

The bar is made of glossy mahogany wood, and like the tables in the front, most of the seats are empty though people come up and ask for drinks, just putting it on their tabs for the night. An enormous collection of alcohol is proudly displayed behind the bartenders yelling at each other and serving drinks.

“Can I help you two gentlemen?” the bartender asked, an tall, muscular Asian man in his late twenties who is simultaneously pouring and serving drinks using his powers of telekinesis.

He is dressed in a crimson uniform with a black apron with crimson lettering spelling out the Crimson Lounge. And a small name tag is placed on his left apron strap: Draco.

The other bartenders are ducking to avoid getting alcohol spilled onto them and cursing when alcohol manages to get on their crimson uniforms.

“Special Agents Adam Tyler and Morgan Verger, we’re with the FBI; we need to talk to Raven Usher,” Adam introduced, showing his badge and Morgan copies him.

Draco arches an eyebrow, like he’s vaguely surprised that this is happening.

“If you want to talk to Raven, you’re gonna have to wait, she’s busy,” he answered.

“Where is she?” Morgan demands over the noise of the announcer and the crowd.

“She’s here, she’s busy.”

“Doing what?”

Just as the guy is about to answer the announcer cuts over him.

“AND THE WINNER OF HER A HUNDRED AND TENTH MATCH! THE FIERCEST BIRD OF PREY, HER HOUSE WILL NOT FALL: RAVEN USHER!”

“Told you she was busy,” the bartender quips.

The crowd parts ever so slightly and Morgan and Adam can see a tall, black haired woman with blood and bruises all over her folding in her beautiful black wings. Her clothes are torn, burned, and covered in blood.

Despite her victory, Raven has a sullen look on her face, and it’s unsure if she’s annoyed at the outcome, the way she did it, the crowd, the announcer, or anything in general. This is clearly the final fight of the evening because the crowd dissipates as Raven exits the ring though most of them crowd her. The patrons shower the woman with cries of congratulation, requests to talk about fighting or to get her a drink, or yell rude profanity, insults, and death threats.

“I would wait a couple minutes before approaching Raven. She’s not her best after a fight,” the bartender warns just as they move over to get there.

“Not that she’s ever in a good mood,” the guy mutters, which is audible even over the raucous crowd.

Before Morgan can ask the guy what he means, Adam is already stalking over to Raven as she enters a small room where (Morgan is guessing here) she goes to clean up after fights. Adam marches over to the room where Raven disappears to only to be stopped by two large muscular guards.

“Please tell Ms. Usher that Special Agents Adam Tyler and Morgan Verger wish to talk to her when she has finished cleaning up,” Adam tells the two men.

The two men look at each other then nod to Adam. Ten minutes later, with a blue grey leather jacket and her wounds in the process of healing, Raven Usher comes out. She glances their way briefly.

"I'll be back down in a moment," is all she says as she climbs up to the balcony and disappears into the office.

Another five minutes later, Raven comes back down. As she nears them, Morgan recognizes her as the motorcyclist who looked at him as she drove away. Raven looks at Morgan briefly before turning her attention to Adam. 

"What can I do for you?" Raven asked.

"Where were you the night of-?" Adam begins.

"Freddie's murder?" Raven finishes. "Back at my apartment, hungover and ignoring the Tattle Crime calls until I finally got fed up and answered Elizabeth. I'm guessing she's the one who sent you here."

"Yes," Adam answers. "We were also told you are a private investigator."

"Since when does the FBI need P.I. to do their work for them?" 

"Because you have solved several cases in the past and you've done them quietly and efficiently."

"Why do you need me? This should be a quick job."

"We have reason to believe that a duo copying the Chesapeake Ripper murdered her."

At those words, Raven stiffens and her grey eyes harden with anger.

"You were affected by the Ripper?" Morgan guesses.

"Yes and that's all I'm going to say," Raven says tightly. "When do you need me to come in?"

"Tomorrow, Monday at 10 in the morning at the FBI Academy," Adam answers. "Someone will lead you to my office. Goodnight Ms. Usher."

Raven merely saluted him and left, pulling on motorcycle gloves which reached to the two black leather bracers on her wrists. Morgan followed Adam back to the car.

"That was short," Morgan noted.

"I wanted to get out of there," Adam said as they got into the car. "Raven is hiding something. Something about the Chesapeake Ripper. We already have Jack Crawford coming out of retirement and taking an interest in this case so we need to tread lightly."

Morgan merely nodded.

As the two agents sped off, a figure cloaked in shadows watches as Raven speeds away on her motorcycle, taking a picture of her. The figure smiles.

_It is so wonderful to see Mischa again,_ the person thought, looking at the pictures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and don't forget to leave a kudos and comment! See ya till the next update!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alana,” Tyler says tightly. “Morgan is fine.”
> 
> Mischa has to remember how to breathe as she looks at the black haired, blue eyed woman in front of her. 
> 
> Alana Bloom-Verger. 
> 
> Her mother.
> 
> Mischa keeps her face neutral as she walks into the room, briefly halting the conversation, but it goes back to normal. As Alana and Adam argue about Morgan being in the FBI (something she tunes out), Mischa discreetly looks at Alana. 
> 
> All those hushed comments about how she reminded her fathers of her mother finally make sense. 
> 
> Mischa has the coldness Alana’s blue eyes (no matter what color Mischa’s are), they are the same height and build, and (from what she’s overheard about Alana) both of them had a small streak of ruthlessness in them. Alana had aided Margot in killing her brother Mason Verger in cold blood by feeding him to his own eel. And of course Mischa in every fight had shown no mercy. As for killing, that just came naturally for both of them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there...it's been awhile. Finally getting around to updating.

Mischa felt like cursing as she drew near to the FBI Academy. Six years of running and hidingand setting up a life for herself was about to be ruined. All those fights she did at the Crimson Lounge, collecting money to conceal her identity would be for nothing if Mischa was revealed to be Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham’s daughter. Working with the FBI especially when her parents were going to check who was working on the case was going to be dangerous. Mischa had planted small cameras in the houses of the people she knows Hannibal and Will would go after: Alana and Margot, Morgan, Jack Crawford, Adam Tyler, Wally and Molly Foster, Jimmy Price, and Brian Zeller. Mischa had also been keeping tabs on men loyal to Mason Verger and the reporters at Tattle Crime, though mostly Freddie Lounds.

Freddie must have seen her and guessed that she wanted to become a member of Tattle Crime which couldn’t have been further from truth. The opinions about Freddie and her shit newspaper was one of the few things she agreed with Hannibal and Will on. Freddie meddled in things that were too big for her and she didn’t know what she was doing. Her writing not only put the FBI agents in danger, but herself as well.

Thinking of Freddie and Tattle Crime reminds Mischa of Elizabeth and why she is driving to the place where Will once taught and met Hannibal.

For once in her murder-filled life, Mischa actually wanted to kill someone.

That someone being Elizabeth Ryan.

It was because of Elizabeth that her secret, her life that she worked to make, was in danger of falling apart. Who she was, what she has done, who she was raised by, could all be discovered by the FBI.

Mischa grits her teeth and imagines ripping out Elizabeth’s tongue and cutting her vocal cords one by one. And that would only be the start of what Mischa would do to that bitch.

No.

She can’t. Mischa is better than that. But the idea of murdering Elizabeth is far too appealing for her comfort.

 _So much for not being a killer,_ Hannibal’s voice purrs. _This just proves that you will always be like me and Will._

 _You are our design,_ Will agrees.

 _Shut up. This isn’t real! Neither one of you are here!_ Mischa growls.

 _We are always here,_ they confirm.

For a brief moment, Mischa isn’t riding her bike, she’s in a dark cellar watching as Will and Hannibal brutally murder some faceless creep who had corner and tried to hurt her. She’s there, helping her family kill him, picking out the best pieces to eat, and hiding her fear of her parents. She knows Will and Hannibal would never kill her, but Mischa wishes they would. Having them kill her would be better than having to kill people who didn’t deserve the deaths they were given.

Mischa swerves to the correct lane as a car honks at her as she enters the FBI Academy’s parking lot.

Rattled, Mischa parks her motorcycle at Quantico, absentmindedly rubbing her bracers. She feels the rugged softness of the leather as she walks inside the academy.

She’s not her parents and she’s never met her mother Alana, so Mischa doesn’t even know if she is truly like her mother. 

Mischa pushes those thoughts out of her head. That’s her parents talking, not her. Mischa is escorted to Tyler’s office where Morgan Verger, her half-brother, is waiting with-

“Alana,” Tyler says tightly. “Morgan is fine.”

Mischa has to remember how to breathe as she looks at the black haired, blue eyed woman in front of her.

Alana Bloom-Verger.

Her mother.

Mischa keeps her face neutral as she walks into the room, briefly halting the conversation, but it goes back to normal. As Alana and Adam argue about Morgan being in the FBI (something she tunes out), Mischa discreetly looks at Alana.

All those hushed comments about how she reminded her fathers of her mother finally make sense.

Mischa has the coldness Alana’s blue eyes (no matter what color Mischa’s are), they are the same height and build, and (from what she’s overheard about Alana) both of them had a small streak of ruthlessness in them. Alana had aided Margot in killing her brother Mason Verger in cold blood by feeding him to his own eel. And of course Mischa in every fight had shown no mercy. As for killing, that just came naturally for both of them.

 _No matter how hard you try to hide it,_ Hannibal croons.

Mischa hopes that the saying that every mother instinctively recognizes her child is false. Mischa forces herself to remain calm as Alana looks at her. Alana’s eyebrows furrow slightly, but it’s more towards Tyler than it is to her.

Mischa knows that Alana has been looking for Will and Hannibal for sometime now, because she and her parents have killed the people she’s sent looking after them.

Of course, everything that her parents whispered about Alana were from their perspective, so Mischa didn’t trust it.

For a brief, insane moment, Mischa debates revealing herself to Alana now and saving everyone the trouble of running around, wondering why the hell people were being killed in groups of three (like pigs) and why anyone would imitate the Chesapeake Ripper again or if this was actually Hannibal.

The majority of the FBI would remain in the dark and twiddle their fingers while people were killed, firmly remaining ignorant that Hannibal and Will were back no matter what evidence was shown, while people with actual sense, like Alana, would realize it was Hannibal.

Of course, Alana had been actively looking for Hannibal and Will for a long time, believing that they had been the ones who had abducted her for eleven months. She had looked at every place where she had been in those eleven months, finding only two places: her office at BSCHI and an adoption agency that wouldn’t (or couldn’t) give her the documents about the child she had given up for adoption.

When Mischa first came to Virginia, she went to the adoption agency first, asking about the two men who had adopted her. The people there had been reluctant to tell her, but told her that the couple’s surname had been Dancy and that’s all they had told the agency. Mischa remembers seeing Alana demanding information about her, about the men who had taken her when she was in the room.

Alana had ignored her thankfully, failing to notice the eighteen year old girl who had the same eyes as her and Will and the same golden brown hair as Hannibal.

“Just tell me this: what was the gender of my child?” Alana begs.

“Ma’am, we’ve told you this for the past seventeen years, once you’ve filed for closed adoption, you cannot contact your child in anyway. Not unless they come looking for you,” the man said in a tired voice.

Then Alana had left, leaving the poor man to expect more visits from “that crazed woman.” Mischa had left not too long after.

From what Mischa could gather on her mother, Alana still believed that Will was coerced into going with Hannibal and was set on finding both of them.

Even though Alana would never say it, she would kill Hannibal rather than have him locked up in a cell then go and comfort Will, not knowing she would be killed by both. Mischa had been watching over Alana carefully, making sure no one was going to take Alana and ask questions about her. Alana didn’t know she had a daughter and she didn’t need to no matter what she claimed. All she wanted was verification that her idea that Will was still a moral man and Hannibal had hurt both of them was true. And possibly some maternal part of her wanted the child she never knew under her thumb.

Alana was so far from the truth about Will it was almost comical.

Will had gone voluntarily with Hannibal. They had both jumped off of that cliff together, they had killed and devoured Bedilia together, they created her together (a story they would always talk about). As for Mischa, she had dealt with Hannibal and Will who had not once let her out of their sight (until now that is) and Mischa knew from a very young age that she couldn’t hide from them from long.

Everything her parents did was together, for each other, and now for her. She was their center, though it was subtle and overlooked by others. Will had been the one who had outwardly shown protectiveness while Hannibal was subtle and killed for his daughter.

Of course when the couple couldn’t watch her, it was the other duo. One who was loyal to her parents and the other obsessed with her and despised her parents.

Before Mischa could be sucked into a memory, Morgan captures her attention by coming in and arguing with their mother. The scene reminds Mischa of when her parents argued. 

"So, what exactly am I here for Tyler?" Mischa demands. 

"Interrogation. We need to know everything," Adam tells her. "You are a suspect in this investigation, given that you are thought to have a motive to get rid of Freddie."

Were all FBI agents this stupid?

Hiding her exasperation, Mischa allowed herself to be interrogated. She told the truth about Freddie and mostly told the truth when they asked about her personal life. They didn't need to know that now. 

Just as Adam was finishing the last question, Jack Crawford and Alana Bloom rushed in, both wide eyed and in shock.

"Jack, what are you doing here?" Adam asks.

"I got something in the mail," was all the man said.

And Jack produces a large manilla envelope and hands it to Adam who after looking through the contents and swearing profusely, then shows it to Mischa. She has to hold back her own torrent of curses as she looks at the mutilated bodies of Chiyoh, Elizabeth Ryan, and Molly Foster. 

The wounds aren't the precise cuts that Hannibal and Will like do, they're jagged, rough, and there's nothing that hides the intent of revenge on all three women. Chiyoh's body is barely recognizable, head severed from her body and face mutilated, but Mischa knows it's her. The body of Elizabeth Ryan is pinned against the wall of her office with staplers, pens, and pencils, blood pouring out of the numerous puncture wounds. As for Molly, her dad's ex-wife, she has simply been shot in the head like the killer couldn't be bothered with making Molly suffer.

Mischa knows who it is and knows that this is a message to her, Will, and Hannibal. Mischa then picks up the letter.

_Dear Mr. Crawford,_

_As you can tell I have killed Will Graham's former wife, Molly Foster;the intrusive reporter who would have been more of a nuisance than Freddie Lounds herself, and Chiyoh, the woman who guarded the killer of Hannibal's little sister until Will killed him._

_This is a warning, not just for you and your friends, but for Hannibal and Will who had been living quite comfortably with their child named after Hannibal's sister, to not stop me. Any attempts will be foolish and will only end in blood._

_Also a warning for the bird, Raven:_

_I am coming for her. And she alone knows the reason as to why I'm drawing out Hannibal and Will._

_Also please inform her that I will be contacting her along with the Bloom-Verger family and Wally Foster. I have already talked to the stupidly named Murder Husbands via letter. They know who I am and who I am looking for._

_Perhaps you'll meet her Mr. Crawford._

_Sincerely,_

_Doragon_

Mischa suppresses a growl of anger. As the two older men look at her expectantly, she sighs.

"I'm afraid you are now a part of this," Jack drawled, looking down at her.

 _I always was,_ Mischa grumbles mentally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this was shit. Dont forget to leave a kudos


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